


until the guns click dry

by 10redplums



Series: dragons campaign [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, burning alive (he gets better), dealing badly with your life of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10redplums/pseuds/10redplums
Summary: On a mission to rescue a wizard, the party meets some fire elementals. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
Series: dragons campaign [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018047
Kudos: 2
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	until the guns click dry

**Author's Note:**

> cw: fire, transphobia as Armand thinks about his mother, self-harm

_ Say what you want about faith, but it can do powerful things to those that have it. It can stop you faltering when the bullets start to slam into you. It can keep you walking as they blow your legs to bloody stumps. It can keep you laughing as your lungs are riddled with lead and shrapnel. It can keep you smiling as half your face is blown away. It can keep someone like Galahad standing tall until the guns clicked dry. (The Mechanisms, The Hermit) _

Many times in Armand’s life he would describe as pure agony. His sister leaving him for their mother. Getting stabbed when he was already bleeding out on the ground. Poison gas in his lungs. The beauty of the Morninglord’s angels, though in that case that had been ecstasy.

The fire elemental engulfs him in flame and his last thought, before he screams, is that he’s going to strangle Iskandar with his bare hands.

The wool under his armor doesn’t catch, which is a mercy. The metal glows. His skin blisters and crackles. His hair  _ does _ catch fire. The elemental laughs even as it steals the breath from his mouth as he chokes out the words of a prayer, and  _ it _ screams as silver rain falls on it and grants him a reprieve. Butler and Snow must still be fighting, somewhere far away; he hears cursing and the clash of metal. He gulps down the air to cast again and again as the elemental ignites  _ again _ and  _ again _ , and in each other’s embrace the two of them  _ scream.  _

Armand burns for an eternity, and then it’s over. In the aftermath of the violence Sehanine's blessed touch is almost too much to bear. He dimly registers Agni on the floor beside him, for once in his life cool to the touch of his hands still weeping, and he retches out the words of a prayer from the razed wasteland of a throat and pulls him back from death.

The glowing cat appears and rubs against his knees briefly before scampering around Agni and settling on his chest, and he thinks he musters the strength to give Snow a thumbs-up. They settle beside him; Butler is already running off to help Afhn deal with the water elemental. He wonders briefly if their mother would take him as well, the life of a courtly six-foot-four half-orc woman might not be so bad, and he thinks he would almost prefer to burn again. They get up and rejoin the others and make their way through the tower.

In the period immediately after missions when they’ve dragged their bodies through the manor’s front doors they drift apart, Butler to his kitchen, Agni to his vices, Snow and Afhn to… somewhere. Armand sets aside his tithe to the order. Puts his burned clothes away for disposal, his armor for repair. Tries his best with what’s left of his hair. Makes a fire in the common room. Prays to the goddess. Thinks about his life.

Snow is the first to answer his scream, bursting through the window. They have their bow at the ready, eyes scanning the room for threats, slim form blocking out the moonlight already providing a balm for his wretched soft body. He hears them relax when they see it’s only him in there, kneeling on the floor, teeth gritted as he clutches at the wrist of the hand he thrust into the fire. The skin is already smoothing out and filling again. They go to the doorway to tell Butler everything’s fine and return, ears flicking, and wait until Armand’s breathing returns to normal.

“You should go get something to eat,” they say. “Magic helps, but there’s only so much your body should take.”


End file.
